


As The Rush Comes

by HandsAcrossTheSea



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 06:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsAcrossTheSea/pseuds/HandsAcrossTheSea
Summary: Raiding a HYDRA op, Steve and Bucky take on a little more than they bargained for.





	As The Rush Comes

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, let me say that I've been kicking around the concept of this fic for a long few years now and for want of anything else to write, decided to unleash it on these two. I haven't had a lot of luck with fic writing lately, just because my brain isn't wired for it at the moment. But. Reading non_tiembo_mala's latest piece got me feeling inspired, and here we are. 5K words of undiluted Stucky porn. This is all he's got in him right now, and I'm okay with that.

There was  _ something  _ in that warehouse cum HYDRA op. Something big and evil and fuck, it clings like a black edge to the edge of Steve’s mind’s eye. Anything they could punch, kick, shoot, was punched, kicked, and shot. Cleared out, burned.

It still feels like there’s a patina of pure, undiluted hatred clinging to Steve’s skin. He can’t wash it off, despite scrubbing off in the jet’s decon chamber. Something… bad. Just plain, flat out bad. He isn’t even in the suit anymore, changed into an Air Force style jumpsuit that Tony’s modded for their specific supe needs. It feels wrong, to not be in the suit but he doesn’t think he can stand to wear it right now, not after what they just went through. Distance himself from it as much as possible.

He can’t burn the suit, but he’s having JARVIS put it through every possible cycle to clean it stitch by stitch. There was a moment where a bullet winged off the wall beside them and hit a shelf of glass jars, and red powder had covered both him and Bucky. Maybe that’s got something to do with it, because they both got a couple of good lungfuls. He takes long, deep breaths that make the oxygen mask he’s hooked to spike with concern - he switches off the alarm, strapped in the back of the jet with Bucky to his right. Wearing the same thing, only it doesn’t quite stretch over his shoulders well enough to be comfortable.

Steve catches his eye, and Bucky reaches across the narrow aisle to put a hand on his knee, squeezing in comfort. That one shook the both of them up real fuckin’ bad, and it helps to know that Bucky’s still processing, just the same as him. HYDRA is… yeah. Neither he or Bucky are hesitant to do something about them, but every time it seems like they’ve stomped the last of them out, another cell, another group, some individual they didn’t account for starts the damn ball rolling again, and they have to cut them to pieces once again. Rinse and repeat. Steve hates it, hates HYDRA, hates everything they stand for and the time that they cost him. Cost Bucky.

He covers Bucky’s hand with his own, fingers linked. Nothing’s going to take Bucky away from him, not like that.

Bucky indicates to the private line between their seats, and Steve hits his switch. “You okay?”

“I’ll live.” Their voices are muffled over the sound of the jet’s engines and the masks - and Tony up in the cockpit isn’t likely to be paying them all that much attention anyway. He’s got as personal of a stake in this as they do. The door’s closed anyway, so he and Bucky have some degree of privacy. “Didn’t like that one.”

“Doesn’t seem to matter how many of ‘em I put a bullet in their head, it… I hate it too, Steve.” Bucky doesn’t get that far off look anymore, but he’s got the vestiges of memories that Steve doesn’t ask him about. He knows too. Knows the shape that Bucky’s mind was in before they put him back together in Wakanda. Hell, there’s never going to be anything that Steve can do to thank them enough.

“Next one could be worse.”

No sense in trying to sugarcoat what they both know to be true.

“If there is one.”

Steve nods, and they go silent for a while after that. It still feels like his heart is beating way, way too fast, his skin itchy, hot, and all of that warmth is sitting dead center under his belly. Tingling. Fuck, whatever it is that he inhaled is messing with him, and this jet doesn’t have a med comp of any sort, a quick in and out sort of thing - and Bucky’s face is scarlet too.

“You alright?” Steve checks Bucky’s oxygen, just in case it’s something there. Tony’s jets don’t lose air, and there’s about a million failsafes installed to keep it from happening. It’s not that. Neither of them is asphyxiating.

“Yeah, just… hot. Really hot.” Bucky lets go of Steve’s hand and reaches for the zip of his jumpsuit and pulls it down below his chest - neither of them wear clothing underneath, save for a pair of regulation underwear that’s way too tight around Steve’s thighs. “Christ, Steve, you look like a damn fire engine.”

Steve catches his reflection in the window and fuck, Bucky’s right. And the tingling, it’s winding its way through his veins towards his lower body, down through his blood to the back of his sex, making his toes curl in his boots. Arousal so fucking intense that it  _ hurts  _ wraps around his stomach and pulls  _ down,  _ and fuck, he’s got to get out of this fucking suit, needs to… fuck, needs to touch, and he’s yanking at the zip of his own suit, only the damn thing gets fucking stuck a third of the way down and  _ he has to get it off. Off, off, off. _

“Hey, whoa, Steve, slow down, let…” Bucky doesn’t finish the sentence, just reaches over and makes Steve hold still with a hand to the center of his chest. Drags the zipper down to Steve’s stomach, the tips of his fingers ghosting along his skin and Steve  _ moans,  _ lit up like a fireworks display just from that brief contact. Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up, Steve feels his cheeks get hotter, and seriously, what the fucking hell is even going on right now.

“Buck,” he starts, and snatches his hand back to his chest before he can pull it away. “Fuck, Bucky, you gotta…”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s right hand has already worked its way down into his own suit and Steve watches, captivated, as Bucky hauls his cock out, the zip pushed down as far as it’ll go to let him out against his belly, thick and long and holy fucking shit, Steve’s never wanted to be on his knees so badly in his life before. Watches his flesh and blood hand curl around his thick, thick shaft and tug, pulling his foreskin down to expose his cockhead. Precome smears on his belly, and Steve’s got to have something, anything, and he pulls Bucky’s fingers to his chest, makes him touch his right nipple, the pinch hurting just right - and it shoots straight down to his cock.

“Everything okay back there? Oxygen’s acting weird?” Tony’s voice cuts across the cabin and Steve shouts a quick “all good” in the direction of the speaker, eyes never leaving Bucky’s body. He shoves Bucky’s hand down into his suit and guides his fingers around his cock - Bucky gets with the program really damn quick, gets Steve out and okay, his metal hand knows exactly what the fuck its doing, tight around the top of the shaft just like Steve showed him. Steve doesn’t have the extra skin like Bucky does, but he drips a hell of a lot to make up for it. 

Already red-hot skin lights up even further with every stroke, and soon, Bucky’s touch is mirroring, both hands going at the same pace. Steve can’t leave his own fucking tits alone, halfway out of the top of the suit and it feels so, so good, full body shudders rocking and rocking him until Bucky finds that perfect spot and makes Steve shoot, splattery, shotgun spray drops that coat his chest and stomach, the window - Steve’s  _ paralyzed  _ with pleasure, and he listens to Bucky come right behind him, sees him nail himself in the face and oxygen mask, begging with his eyes,  _ SteveSteveSteve  _ and there’s not much he can do except hold him, fingers wrapped around his wrist to keep Bucky from stopping. He doesn’t  _ want  _ to stop, his heart about to beat its fucking way right out of his chest.

Even after blowing his load all over the goddamn airplane, his dick hasn’t even begun to soften, and neither has Bucky’s. 

“Bucky - hey. This. This ain’t normal.”

Bucky nods, head tossed back in the seat - Steve watches come drip down his neck and over his pecs, catching in the sprinkle of chest hair that sits dead center. It drives Steve fucking crazy to not be there licking it up right now, but… there’s no room. And they need to put themselves away.

“I know - but it. Fuck, it burns. Like I gotta keep goin’ to make it stop.” Bucky’s doing his best to arch into his hands, only the stupid fucking seat straps are only giving about an inch at a time, and unbuckling them would have Tony back here in a fucking second. Steve bites back a whine, hard-coded to spring into action when Buck’s showing that much skin. Impossible to fucking ignore.

“But we have to. Buck, we don’t know what’s wrong. Could be dangerous.” Steve finally pushes Bucky’s hand away and is absolutely devastated by that loss, wincing when he tucks his hard, oversensitive cock back in the scratchy underwear he’s wearing and does his best to clean up the mess he made - the one time he’s pissed that he doesn’t lay ropes like Bucky does. 

Bucky does the same, and then promptly grabs Steve’s hand again. “Sucks, whatever it is.”

“Busting a nut’s a bad thing?”

“What? No - sucks that I can’t climb in your fuckin’ lap and take what I want.” Bucky’s voice is a growl in the earpiece that Steve’s wearing, low and sexy and dick-hardening. Well. Dick  _ super _ -hardening, considering that Steve’s still stiff as a goddamn board. He flicks the comm back over to the cockpit; “how much longer til landing?”:

“Five minutes til we start our landing pattern or so. Why, you gotta use the little boy’s room?”

Steve ignores the snipe and switches back to he and Bucky’s private channel, thumb rubbing back and forth over Bucky’s knuckles. “Kinda interested to know just what it is you want.” There’s a shit ton of things that Steve can think of, recall, and play on an endless loop in his mind - but he likes to hear it from Bucky directly. Needs it. Needs to know that Bucky’s in control of his own fucking mind, his own desire - Steve’s there to help him as much as possible.

“Think it’d be easier to just show you.”

That scratchy, gut-burning tone again, and Steve has to grind the heel of his left hand against himself. The pressure’s back, that fucking quick, and he watches Bucky do the same.

He just hopes like hell that Tony doesn’t want the damn suits back.

The sudden, stomach dropping lurch of initial descent takes the edge off of Steve’s arousal for a moment, and he clutches the armrest as hard as he does Bucky’s hand. He’s not afraid of flying - just when it’s other people doing it. Specifically Tony, who seems to delight in terrifying his passengers with a cheerful smirk plastered to his face. Steve doesn’t find it funny, just adding further to the discomfort he’s finding himself in.

Touching the ground means that the oxygen masks come off, and the rich smell of drying come and lust-sweat hit his nose, sucking down great big lungfuls of air, watching Bucky disengage his own straps, bounding out of their seats the moment that the ramp at the back has started to descend. The wash of the jet engines is hot over his shoulders as they bound towards the base of the tower, hurrying as fast as he can with a swinging erection. Bucky’s in no better shape, and the second they’re in an elevator (praying to God that it’s the right one) Bucky’s shoved him up against the wall and has his tongue in his mouth, fingers tearing at the front of his jumpsuit.

“Steve,” he breathes, taking the very air from Steve’s lungs. “Fuck, Steve, need you.” His his rips over and over again against Steve’s, face held in place with a death grip that ought to be crushing Steve’s jaw. It isn’t a kiss, it’s a bare-knuckled fight, and Steve tastes blood on Bucky’s tongue - his, Bucky’s, he doesn’t know - as he comes in his underwears, dragged out by friction and willpower alone. He crushes Bucky down against the wall, panting into his mouth, knows that Bucky just went over the edge too with how he’s gripping the back of his head and neck.

“We…”

“Shut up.” Bucky holds him, still catching his breath. “Just. Shut up and let me, punk.” Bucky’s arms are around him, face buried in his neck, eyes closed. “Smell good.”

Steve believes him.

Steve was going to say “infirmary” - but there’s a med scanner in their apartment, and it’s usually pretty good at telling them about any weird shit that they run into out in the field. He swears that the damn thing is condescending, but it’s also made by Stark Industries - probably a special feature built in just for Steve. Regardless, he doesn’t stop kissing Bucky. Can’t. Doesn’t feel like remotely enough, not even after two leg-cutting orgasms. Fuck, if anything, he’s even harder than before, and doesn’t bother to stop Bucky when he reaches into his suit and resumes tugging on his cock.

“Something’s wrong, Bucky.” He nuzzles Bucky’s neck, grabs his ass, taken with how goddamn  _ firm  _ it is - he wants that too. Wants Bucky’s ass. God, it’s hot, there’s no room, and he has to get out of this fucking suit.

“Feel like you said that already.” Bucky makes his way back to his mouth for a kiss, this one slower, less frantic, working Steve’s tongue along with his cock. Steve hums, bends further into Bucky, trying to blanket and wrap around him. The elevator stops, they tumble out and thank fuck it’s the right floor - one quick bioscan and the door opens right on up for him, and Steve hits the lock the second they’re inside. 

The suits are ruined, between ripping out of them and the come that’s already stained them - twice. Boots are kicked off, underwear is snatched from each other’s bodies until Steve picks Bucky up and carries him to the bedroom, laying him down on the bed and slamming their hips together again. He’s still leaking come, and the first drag of his naked cock against Bucky’s has him dripping precome all over their bellies, fingers snarled in each other’s hair, around the cusp of a shoulder muscle. It’s glorious, it burns, and Bucky’s mouth is really, really fantastic on his right now, a proper, fuck-me kiss, only they can’t seem to get to that first part. Dick rubbin’ is where it’s at right now, and Bucky, god, Bucky has the magic fucking touch as he gets his finger around their shafts and milks them with a hell of a lot more finesse than Steve himself is capable of right now.

“Fuck, Bucky, that feels so goddamn good.” Steve gets his hips moving, makes himself slide in and out of Bucky’s fingers. Catches himself all long Bucky’s long shaft, feels the foreskin bunch back around his cockhead. Bucky bumps his chin against Steve’s and make him kiss his mouth again, metal fingers holding the back of his head in place. Drags the tips over his scalp, sensation shooting off like a blown transformer down his back and for whatever reason, that’s what does it for him, coming all over Bucky’s chest and stomach, the same huge, explosive mess from the plane. No fucking loss in volume, which… that should scare the fuck out of him. When it’s just them and there’s not been some sort of weird shit they’ve touched, by orgasm number three they’re shooting dry. 

This is like someone’s amped up their hormones to a fucking thousand and broke the goddamn knob off.

“Shit, Steve, I’m gonna-” Bucky smashes his nose into Steve’s cheek and busts, come spilling over his fingers. It leaks around their cocks, makes a further mess of Steve’s belly and pubic hair, slippery and rich scented, perfect in more ways that Steve’s really willing to count right now. Because this isn’t good or normal, everything feels way, way too sensitive, and in the thirty seconds since his last orgasm, he’s regained enough conscious thought to want another orgasm.

Bucky pants, their cocks slick with his come. He brings his fingers up to Steve’s mouth and obediently, Steve sucks them off, three in his mouth at one time. Their combined taste has his body in overdrive and licking it off of Bucky’s fingers ain’t fucking cutting it. He shoves Bucky up the bed and goes for it, right for his hard fucking cock, takes him with his mouth right fucking down to the base. His throat is fucked full, Bucky’s heavy nuts warm against his chin. Fuck, he normally struggles to take Bucky that fast - right now it’s like his throat was molded for that sole purpose.

“ _ Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck” -  _ Bucky scrambles, pushes Steve off. His face is twisted with need, and it takes Steve a second to figure out why. He watches Bucky maneuver until his head is hanging off the edge of the bed and he’s grabbing Steve by the hips, guiding his cock right to his waiting mouth.

“Wreck my goddamn throat, Steve.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for him to move. He grabs Steve by the ass and pulls him in, the curve of Steve’s cock following perfectly until Bucky’s inhaling his pubes and Steve has nothing, no reaction beyond returning the favor. Pumps his hips into Bucky’s mouth and throat, listens to the wet, heavy, slurping sounds of his cock busting Bucky’s fucking jaw open. Bucky’s dick still fits just right in his, his jaw aching with his girth, Bucky just the slightest hair bigger than him all around. Knowing he can handle it, fuck - Steve likes it. Likes sucking Bucky off any chance he can get.

The stream of filth that normally pours from each other’s mouths is cut short by the noise of spit-slicked lips, full throat, Steve’s nuts hitting Bucky’s face; he fucks his mouth just as if Bucky was ass up for him and hell, that’s in the cards. He takes and takes, gags himself on Bucky’s dick, uses just his mouth, one knee up on the bed and one foot on the floor, drilling Bucky’s throat for all he’s worth. Not once does Bucky make him push off or slow down, takes it like a fucking champ. Steve loves him a whole fucking lot in that moment, fucking and fucked, feels his orgasm pull up from his toes. Bucky grabs his ass, ghosts a finger over his hole and it’s all he needs, slammed forward as he rams his orgasm right down Bucky’s throat. Pulse after pulse, and this one lasts longer than normal, and Steve actually feels weakened - only for Bucky to give him a mouthful of come that he barely manages to swallow without spilling.

He was supposed to grab the med scanner, but he just came and he wants to come again. Wants… just wants. Bucky.

Bucky sends him ass over tit back down to the bed and this time, straddles Steve’s hips, raiding his mouth. “Want you in me.” Uses his right arm to pin Steve’s hands and gets the lube with his left, sneaking it from the pillowcase. Doesn’t let up on Steve’s mouth in the slightest as he fingers himself open, quick and dirty, makes Steve listen to the slick of lube as he opens his ass up. No condom, nothing but skin. Fuck, Steve loves to fill him up. Needs it in a way that’s as essential as breathing. Needs to know that Bucky is  _ his -  _ that he’s the only one who gets this.

Of course, he’s nobody’s, just his own - but Bucky shares enough of himself to let Steve think it. 

His train of thought gets derailed as Bucky sinks down on him, the heat and tightness of his ass absolutely nothing compared to his throat. Bucky seals them up with a wrecked kiss, something primally savage, teeth-clacking, and Steve bottoms out far faster than normal. Still has Bucky’s bottom lip between his teeth as he snakes his hips, riding Steve in such a way that he thinks, just for a moment, someone taught him how to do it. Whatever. Feels really goddamn good around him, and every movement gets Bucky’s cock leaking all over his stomach. He doesn’t have a hand free to stroke - not that Bucky seems to mind in the least.

He’s got this under control, even more so when Bucky’s mouth leaves his and licks out his right pit, tongue lapping at overcharged, hot skin - “feels so fucking good with your dick up in my guts like this, Steve.” Makes his way to his nipple, bent over hard so that Steve can see every muscle in his back and shoulders move. “Fuck, just… fuckin’ love ridin’ you like this.” Flicks his tongue against that bud over and over again, sucking it into his mouth. Doesn’t let go, not for anything. Steve arches up, the heels of his feet dug into the mattress. He needs to get deeper, needs to fuck Bucky, because Bucky’s going too damn slow and his entire fucking body - he feels the zinging of his heartstrings in his toes.

They don’t lose the connection when Steve roars off the bed, arms full of fuck-filled Bucky and slams them against the opposite wall, hard enough to jostle shit loose from the top of the dresser. Bucky curls automatically, supported by nothing but his legs around Steve’s waist and a kiss that doesn’t bely a bit of tenderness. Steve fucks and fucks, pounding Bucky hard, thighs straining, sweat dripping down his back and down the crack of his ass. Bucky growls back, mouths  _ knew I’d get you like that  _ and Steve doesn’t let up until his orgasm rips his stomach out, it feels like, fucking Bucky up until his come is leaking off the curve of his ass and between Steve’s feet.

Bucky didn’t come that time.

Steve growls, pulls them back to the bed and puts Bucky on his back, gets his right leg up on his shoulder. “Not stoppin’ til you bust again.” Bucky moans, Steve slammed deep, sinking a bite into his ankle. “What do you need, Buck, tell me.” He rolls his hips, slow as a slow freight up a steep grade, letting Bucky  _ feel  _ him. God, he’s a pretty, pretty mess, covered in sweat and drying come, ass wet and nearing  _ loose  _ around Steve’s cock. 

Bucky looks up at him, hands on Steve’s hips, his face red and eyes glassy. “Want your mouth again.” Bucky hooks him with his ankles, makes Steve bend - there’s a flexibility there that didn’t use to be, and Steve manages to curl down enough that he can suck Bucky’s cock as he fucks him, halfway down his throat. Every thrust of his own hips bumps Bucky into his mouth a little deeper, and he tastes the precome he forces out every time he nails Bucky’s prostate. Bucky howls, a constant chant of  _ SteveSteveSteveSteve  _ turning the air even heavier. Steve’s brain isn’t online anymore, not a single goddamn thing mattering but making Bucky come again. He has to pull off, has to get some air and he drapes himself over Bucky, fists down in the sheets, Bucky curled in half as Steve drives his cock into his body, over and over. 

They’re supposed to be hurting. They  _ have  _ to be. Steve doesn’t have a clue as to wear this ends, but the tighten and  _ pull  _ of Bucky’s body around him gives him what he wants, making Bucky come without a hand on him. Floods his own chest and neck, so bent up that the end of his cock is just inches away from his face.

Bucky pushes him off, trembling, and for the first time since they landed, Steve doesn’t think he can stand to be touched. He’s still hard, covered in lube and his own come, messier than he’s ever been. He puts a hand over his chest, feels his heart going so fast that it may as well bruise him. 

“Steve, we… Steve.” Bucky reaches for him and Steve squeezes his hand, dick jumping when Bucky brings their hands up to his mouth and licks his knuckles. “Need-”

“Anything, Bucky.”

Bucky rolls over on top of him - again - and kisses Steve, slow-slow, like he’s trying to make up for biting him. He doesn’t have a damn thing to be sorry for, but even he can feel Bucky burning up, like he’s about to combust. “Need the thing.”

The med scanner.

Bucky manages to get it and turns it on, then slinks off the bed to drag Steve forward. He throws his legs up on his shoulders and licks his hole, shoving up on the back of Steve’s thigh when he doesn’t move fast enough. The machine beeps as Steve tangles his fingers in Bucky’s hair, pulling him flush with his body. His tongue sends Steve’s entire body to a heaven that he needs to touch more, makes his dick leak all over his belly. The scanner does its work, and soon, both tongue and fingers are messing with Steve’s ass, the rim of his hole teased, opened - he knows where this is going.

He passes Bucky the lube, growling  _ do it -  _ Bucky kisses under his balls and fucks him open with an efficiency that Steve hasn’t quite mastered himself. Most of the time, Bucky’s catching - but right now, when everything but his downstairs brain has been hijacked by some goddamn HYDRA tech, Steve finds himself agreeing with the idea of getting fucked with every passing second. Had to have been whatever they inhaled, as best as he can figure it. 

The scanner finishes it, and right as the tip of Bucky’s cock is teasing at his hole, he manages to string together enough brain cells to read the screen.  _ Hyper fertility, testosterone heightened -  _ it’s a fucking breeding program component, because of course HYDRA would try to weaponize that shit. Make more soldiers.

Steve really, really wants to be sickened. Every bit of it needs to be torched, destroyed - but all he gives a shit about right now is getting Bucky’s cock inside him. The scanner gives no indication of when it’s supposed to wear off - “spread ‘em, Steve.”

He does as he’s told and a second later he’s full of cock, Bucky’s hands gripping his calves, flat on his back and getting the life fucked out of him. Steve tosses his head back and moans, his tits bouncing with every smack of Bucky’s hips against his ass. He has to hold onto the sheets for dear life, his dick swinging and slapping his belly the harder that Bucky fucks him. God, he’s so, so full, ass reamed every time Bucky bottoms out, his nuts drawing up tight to his own body. Hears Bucky groaning, growling, urging Steve to  _ come on, come for me sugar, mess up those tits with your come -  _ like he hasn’t already.

Spread out like a goddamn whore, and Bucky is the one demanding more for him. He loves him, he does, and because he does, Steve bears down on the hot-charged lust swallowing his body, lets the rise and crest of Bucky’s thick dick pounding him open take over completely. The heat dials up another few notches, tightens his guts around Bucky’s cock; he feels it, his orgasm building and building, feet crossed behind Bucky’s neck, need him deeper, deeper, deeper-

Steve comes like the floodgates have been opened, shooting up to his chin and open mouth, moaning Bucky’s name as a cold, cold sweat drenches him. Bucky breeds him full, fucking him loud and sloppy - he feels the warm come drip again, his hole just as much of a mess as Bucky’s is. They don’t stop until Bucky goes ass first to the floor, landing in a pile of sweating muscle, and finally, Steve’s cock starts to soften, hurting so bad he wants to cry. Every muscle below his navel screams for a relief that Steve doesn’t know how to give himself.

“We… we need to call Tony. Someone.” Bucky’s voice is a croak, and Steve needs to go to him. Has to. 

Only his muscles are jelly and Bucky likely isn’t going anywhere either.

“Maybe.” Steve wipes a tear from his eye, manages to sit up. Bucky’s on his side, looking up at Steve like someone’s just cut the strings from his controls. “You okay?”

Come leaks from Steve’s ass as he moves, joining Bucky on the floor, sitting up against the side of the bed. Bucky puts his head on his shoulder, tucking his arm around Steve’s waist. “Better now.”

“Need to go burn that shit.” Bucky kisses the top of his shoulder, and Steve barely feels it - maybe the stuff is wearing off. “Need…”

“Later.” Maybe forever later, but right now, Steve needs to just pause. “You know, I didn’t hate that. Making you come that much.”

Bucky manages a laugh, his metal fingers perfect around Steve’s hip. Close, warm, their breaths almost coming as one now. “All that fuckin’ and you’re proud that you made  _ me  _ come.”

So maybe he’s still a little insecure about it but yeah, he is. He  _ likes  _ making Bucky orgasm. “Just wish it wasn’t cause of HYDRA.”

Bucky nods, rubbing Steve’s side. “Hey, I’m okay. Could have been worse than freaky sex shit. Lot worse.”

“I know. But. Next time, I wanna make it happen without it.” They’ve had to fight for their own terms for so long - Steve doesn’t want it like this, not again. “I like knowing that it’s  _ just  _ me and you.”

“And it will be. Promise.”

Steve leans into another kiss, and this time, tastes nothing but the sweet-smoke that can only ever be Bucky.

He’s never been more grateful in his life.


End file.
